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The stream (all workshops)

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You said you were sorry, 

You said you were lost

You said you would love me whatever the cost

You said you were lonely 

The Devils Pearls

A mournful cry
pierces the night
a lesser man would take flight
yet there beseeching the broken night
he splays bespoken dreams

Oh to what gods do I pray
that of Isis and Osiris
to end this longing and dismay
remove the darkness and dispair
or be you on thy way

And who will speak a eulogy
for the death of a sustainable
part of me
remote and distant this day
no more, no more will this go on
passions fire has departed and gone
only in memory does it live on

Ninth Dimension

It is so sad to feel this way
The glue has come undone.
I see no way to remedy
The twisted side has won.

A world that races wildly on
With plundering and shame
The only way to sidestep this
Is play that deadly game.

An entity of greed and force
Lives totally aware.
Inside my intellect it breeds
Those wicked words of flair.

That is the way I capture them
And toy to my delight.
That words of beastly attitude
Will mirror their hate tonight.

Autumn The Backyard Girl (four poems one by one)

Your voice beckons me now
to my backyard
where each autumn
I compose a poem

the leaves of yore since forgotten
trampled by winds crushing speed
up into the air leaves are blown
high above the trees

where beyond the beyond
they could never have reached
ere there had been no autumn
can any drooping eyes admire

the colours manifests on my mind’s wire
as I see myriads of them
the scent of corns still pervades
what wind can ever invade


The day began with
The bang of the door
Which flowed like musical notes into my ears.
The delightful aroma of tea
Tapped me on the shoulder and called,
Then the smell of bouquet
Made me keen to awake.
As I stretched,
I felt a tickle like a butterfly
Alight on my nose and then trail
down to my chin; and so I woke up.

The man with numbers and alphabets
Drew my eyes closer to him
Reporting today's activity.
She had used the whole year
To prepare for this day.

October (Contest)

As the weather cools so do I
Another Autumn before I die
You may say I sound so sad
But no inside, I am really, glad.

I look out my window today
The mountain ash has changed its sway
Red berries from the original green
Brown leaves on the boughs are seen

The air is fresher now near to cold,
Put on another coat so I am told
The children on their way to school
Move faster as the air is quite cool.

Enormously Small

If I could patent what it is I do wrong,
whenever my intentions are wearing white,
I could own the moon.
My edges are not sharp by any means.
But covered with slime of some crime
I didn’t know I committed.
Trying to pinpoint where the ruin begins, is like counting sand.
The crevices where I talk are to small for a
whisper to squeeze through.
Caverns where the echoes fall are enormously small.


He fell in love with her
Lost himself in her world
He couldn't withstand her resplendent look
Her eyes shone like a shooting star
Glowing in a glamorous manner
With her rounded face carved like
the sculptures of beautiful angels

He could burn the world for her
Calm the raging storm if he had the power
Climb the highest mountain to profess his love
Fight the deadliest creatures to protect her
But he forgot she was the daughter of chaos
Love means nothing
Pain was her only language


You left some pictures hanging
On the ramparts of my heart;
That when I sleep, they come alive
Like winged faeries to mar my dreams.

Come and help me fold them up,
Set this memory ablaze;
Your cat eyes and sullen dimples,
The taste of your scarlet lips.

Set them ablaze, the contorted
Memories of your teary eyes
As they tear through the thick tentacles
Of lashes to the oasis of your brows.

Predator: imagery workshop

i seek new moons mirrored in a blood-filled bog
fog, thick and thirsty, encloses the woods
where new roses shrivel and wither to black
then back again in spring white, red and pink
new petals to be plucked by the hand of the dead
even the fog yearns to be tinged red
no white now and pink has gone
to feed in the land where dead hearts carry on
the petals once open never ended their quest
to be blessed with maturity and fertility
and tender young thorns cannot protect
a flower's sweet virginity


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